


Maker of Many Stories

by Alliance (Xazz)



Series: Cypress Hall [4]
Category: Flight Rising
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 02:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16546886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xazz/pseuds/Alliance





	Maker of Many Stories

    

The corridors were too quiet. The city didn't hum. The great air wells were still. No one moved about. It appeared that the only thing that moved was Hezen. A silly thought that a thing that wasn't really alive was the last living thing in Mu. His claws made no noise on the marble floor as he walked the dimly lit hallways deep in the underbelly of the ship. If he placed a claw on the wall he could feel the engine, down deep below, struggling. He frowned but resisted the urge to return to his lair.

Secure in the middle of the ship was the Wind Sanctum. The air was stale, the water of the pond murky, a thin layer of dust covered everything. It made no sense to him. He was sure the Matriarch would be here. The room was empty. He pressed passed what passed for a throne for a Wind dragon and into the back of the Sanctum, the living quarters of the Matriarch and her consort.

Hezen did not find the Matriarch back there.

“Ars,” he said, finding the other progenitor sitting on a fat pillow, wings folded, eyes closed. Ars did not move, he almost looked dead if not for the slight rise and fall of his flank. Hezen stepped closer. “Ars, what happened? Where's the Matriarch? What happened to my ship?”

Ars opened his eyes slowly, going from a glowing green back to a traditional Wind color as he focused. “Hezen? Hezen!” he jumped to his feet and the other wildclaw grabbed him excitedly, “You live!”

“I… suppose, if this is living,” Hezen said awkwardly. “What happened? I don't remember.”

“We were attacked,” Ars said softly. “Windshear was going to fall… sink, whatever,” he shook himself, his crest flaring, wings fluttering. “You know the Windborne, they're a bunch of paper foo, really, he grimaced.

“Who attacked us?”

“Those awful Crumbled, because we're helping Kaley.” Hezen only had vague recognition it the name. He'd heard it in passing mostly. “They had brought a monster, many of them. We were no match, not even Nadalin and Tyberion,” he frowned.

“Then… what happened?” Hezen asked softly.

“Desperation. Nadalin is connected to the ship, you know.”

“Yes,” Hezen said. He might have been the heart of the Windsinger’s Tale but he would never dispute Nadalin being the soul.

“She- she forced me to do a spell that would protect the Tale. It was a powerful spell. It shut everything down, sent us into a near Silenced state,” his green eyes were suddenly wide. He turned away from Hezen and bolted deeper into the Sanctum. Hezen ran after him. They didn't have to go far before they came to a dusty dais in which a single woven basket interlaced with silks to protect the fragile cargo. A single Wind egg. Hezen took it in his claws. “The spell needed more power than we could give it to protect the whole of the Tale,” he continued, holding the egg gently in both claws.

“Where's the Matriarch?” Hezen asked. That was why the ship struggled.

“She's gone,” Ars whispered. “The spell needed power so… she gave it power. Her and Tyberion, the oldest, and strongest of us.”

“Why not you?” Hezen heard himself demand.

Ars looked at him wide eyed. “If she'd have let me take her place. But she wouldn't. She made me do the spell instead,” he looked away, eyes closed. “The barrier would remain, the clan in stasis, until the ship was well enough again to awaken,” he looked back at Ars. “I never expected to see you again, honestly. I would always be in Silence.”

Hezen looked around feeling lost. “She's gone?” he asked.

“Her body is gone. I… did what I could.”

“What did you do?” Ars left and walked to where he'd been sitting. “How long have I been gone? I woke up in my glass bubble and no one was around.”

“Years,” Ars said softly. “Long enough for us to be forgotten. Long enough for that stupid war of paladins to be over. Or I hope it is,” Ars set the egg on the pillow.

“What did you do?”

“Nads and I did it together,” Ars said and Hezen almost tackled him when he hit the egg. The egg cracked along the swirling lines and split open.

“What?” Hezen didn't know what he was looking at. It was a hatchling. It looked almost like the Matriarch. But small, fragile, and patternless.

“I told you. Her body is gone but you can't really kill a child of the Eleven, not really,” he put his claws around the hatchling, holding her close. “So…”

“What did you do?” Hezen demanded.

“She and Ty gave up their bodies, essence, their magic, to keep us safe, but you can't destroy a soul. Not even the Shade can really destroy a soul. So I just… put it somewhere else,” Ars said softly.

“That's… her? Nadalin?” Hezen asked slowly.

“Yes. But she remembers nothing. She's just a little hatchling who needs someone to look after her.”

“You?” Hezen asked.

Ars shook his head. “No. I don't think it's best she stay here.”

“The Tale is her home, she's the soul of the ship,” Hezen said.

Ars looked at him sadly. “Not anymore. She's not a progenitor anymore, Hezen. She's just a dragon.”

Hezen felt his mouth prickle with arcane lightning. “You should have done more to save her-

Ars looked up at him, “Mind your tone,” he growled. “I am also progenitor of this clan. I did what she wanted. She wanted to become this. This is her will. Now,” he looked away from Hezen. “We need to put her somewhere safe. Somewhere where they don't know Windshear or Mu or heard the stories of the Windsinger’s Tale,” he got up again, slowly, holding the newborn in his claws.

“But this is her home. Why take her away?” Hezen asked, following Ars out to the 'throne’.

“She should want to return to us on her own. I've seen what happens when you force others to do what isn't in their heart. Kaley was forced to be what she never wanted and ran from those expectations. It's better to give her room to grow, discover who she is, and maybe, one day, she will return to us,” Are gently stroked her stubby Guardian horns.

“What do we do now?” Hezen asked as they slowly left the Sanctum. “What if she never comes back? What if we need her?”

“Windshear isn't like it was,” Ars said. “We lived in a Silence-like state for years. Who we were is gone.” Ars walked to one it the quiet air wells that provided lift to get you up to the top of the ship quickly. “The Age moved on without us.” He touched a crystal in the wall and flushed it full of magic. The air tunnel rushed into life. “And we may never find our place in it again.” Ars stepped into the air well and rose up. Hezen followed him, rising just as quickly thanks to his barely solid form.

Ars landed lightly on the streets of Mu. Around dragons were slowly waking, moving sluggishly, trying their wings and groaning from a long sleep as they shook off all their dust. “So what now?” Hezen asked nervously as Ars walked down the street with the hatchling. Dragons who could bowed to him, deferring to him and looking away.

Ars didn't answer him until they were at the edge of the Tale, the lagoon stretching out perfectly and blue. The husk of the Slaughter Three lay half submerged in the water by the waterfall, half visible in the mists. “The Tale is you. You are the Tale,” Ars said. “It is your body and you are it's body.”

“Yes?”

Ars still wasn't looking at him. “You need to take her somewhere where the body and the soul feel is safe,” he said.

“I can't leave the Tale, Ars. If I don't return to my generator I'll disappear.”

“The Tale is you and you are the Tale. The Tale did not die. Even if you dissipate you won't disappear.You'll reform back into your generator, reconstructed from more magic. You aren't a real thing, Hezen. You're a thing made from the wild magic of the lift generator. You exist as you are now but you will exist again. And again. You are a thing that cannot die until the Tale dies.”

“So you… want me to take her somewhere safe?”

“Yes.”

“How will I know that place?” Hezen asked.

Ars looked at him and his green eyes were kind and gentle. He reached out and put a claw where Hezen's heart should have been. “You will know.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I know my sister wouldn't have made me do this if she didn't know we would find a way.”

“But… me?”

“Yes.”

“Why me?”

“If not you than who?”

“You?”

Ars chuckled and his smile was both happy but longing. “No. My sister would reach from beyond and kill me where I stand if I left Windshear to find its footing again alone. No, I will stay here.” He reached over and laid his claw on Hezen's arm. The barely contained energy sparked and sizzled where he touched. “I believe in you. Nedalin did too.”

Hezen looked at Ars hopelessly. “But what if I fail?”

“You won't,” Ars assured him gently. He looked back out across the lagoon. Then he turned his body to Hezen and put the little hatchling in his arms. She was asleep and Hezen held her as tightly as his fragile body could manage. “I'll come get you from the generator and ask you where you left her when you return,” Ars said like he was being totally reasonable. Hezen still felt like he wasn't the right one for the job but Ars kept saying he was. He swallowed. He needed to trust him. He'd always trusted the progenitors before and now was no different.

He frowned looking down at the hatchling. She was snuggled up against his cloak. “I will do it,” he said.

“I know you will,” Ars said kindly. “Now, go on,” and he motioned for Hezen to do so with his wing.

Hezen held the little hatchling and with more magic than actually moving his wings completed a perfectly vertical lift off. He pulled the hatchling into his cloak and gathered a huge amount of magic around him and under him and turned the around him pink, little bolts of Arcane magic shooting off of him to dissipate into thin air. Then, with a crack… he was gone. He didn't fly away. He was just… gone.

Ars stared up at where he he had been, face drawn and sad. “I hope you come back to us eventually,” he said softly before going back into Mu to deal with his waking clan.


End file.
